


when we parted in silence and tears

by welshwriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Raising Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24392467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welshwriter/pseuds/welshwriter
Summary: “It was Peter.” It was Sirius who spoke, not Dumbledore. “Peter - we swapped the secret keeper. I thought I was too obvious. Lily and James didn’t want to, but I kept pushing until they agreed. I… I tried to go after him, but Hagrid was there when I arrived at the house and stopped me.”Hagrid stopped Sirius before he could get to Peter, and as Harry's godfather, Dumbledore needs him to take Harry in. Sirius begs Remus to help him. Remus isn't sure he can.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 16
Kudos: 105





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, what's up? It's been a hell of a long time since I've written fanfiction, but I'm hoping to get back into it! I hope you enjoy the fic though, I think there will be another two parts to it. My tumblr is welshmoony - come say hi!

Remus sat heavily on the end of a bed in the Leaky Cauldron. He had only ever been in the room once before, two years before, when James had insisted that he was too drunk to go home to Lily and had made Remus collapse into bed with him. It was dark and smelled vaguely of mould. Remus remembered telling James wryly that Lily wasn’t exactly teetotal herself, but James had been too drunk to care. He had wrapped himself around Remus cheerfully, and snored on his shoulder all night. Remus was pulled out of his daydream by the cry of a baby. 

Sirius had drifted to sleep in an overstuffed armchair, Harry wrapped safely in his arms. He was jolted awake, and took a moment to gather his bearings. Remus watched his face fall as he looked down at Harry. He stood up, pacing and shushing Harry gently. 

“Where the hell is Dumbledore?”

Remus didn’t respond. He didn’t know any more than Sirius did. Sirius looked at him, and for a moment they stared at one another. 

“Do you want to take him? I’m going to see if I can find somethinIg to feed him.”

“I’ll go.” Remus didn’t want to touch Harry. 

He was, somehow, shocked to find the celebrations in the pub. It was packed with people, singing and drinking, dancing and laughing. Somebody pulled Remus into a hug, and roared with laughter when Remus shoved him away. There was something perverse, something revolting about the scene. People are dead, he wanted to yell. There’s a crying baby upstairs who’s lost his parents and where the fuck were you? Where the fuck was I? 

He found Tom the barman three pints down and grinning merrily, singing with a dozen others. It was a miracle he hadn’t told the whole room that the boy who bloody lived was in his pub - his pub! Remus ducked behind the bar to find milk, and on his way back to the room transfigured a glass into a bottle and warmed the milk in it. 

But when he slipped through the door, Harry was no longer crying. He was looking with big eyes at the third man in the room. Dumbledore was sat in Sirius’ armchair, looking as serene as ever. Sirius was holding tight onto Harry, hostile at the opposite end of the small room.

“What fucking happened?”

“Remus,” Dumbledore said. “We were waiting for you.”

“No, I mean, what happened? What happened? How did you manage to fuck up like that?”

At his outburst, Harry started to cry again. Sirius touched Remus’ elbow. “Moony…” 

Remus shook him off. “Answer me. Now.” 

“It was Peter.” It was Sirius who spoke, not Dumbledore. “Peter - we swapped the secret keeper. I thought I was too obvious. Lily and James didn’t want it, but I kept pushing until they agreed. I… I tried to go after him, but Hagrid was there when I arrived at the house and stopped me.”

Remus gaped at him. They hadn’t said a word to one another since Sirius had let Remus into the room. He had received an owl from where he was up in northern Yorkshire from Dumbledore telling him to meet him in the Leaky Cauldron, and he had learned the rest from the merry-makers in the pub. “It was your fault?”

Sirius’ jaw clenched. 

“It’s no one’s fault,” Dumbledore interrupted. “It was a terrible, terrible mistake. We were wrong to trust Pettigrew.”

“What happened?” But he didn’t look away from Sirius.

“He was the spy. He’d been working for Voldemort for who knows how long. I realised too late.” 

“I’m sorry, Remus.” Sirius’ eyes were wide and a little bit desperate. 

“Then what? Why’s Harry still here?” 

“Lily cast… A spell. A very, very powerful spell. She sacrificed herself for him.” 

It was like a stone had dropped in Remus’ gut. He turned away from them both, looking out of the window and leaning on the sill under the weight of imagining lovely Lily’s last moments. “So?”

“I believe her love and sacrifice was what protected Harry.”

Remus sighed so heavily it was almost a groan, and he didn’t reply. 

“What next?” Sirius asked. “What happens to Harry now?”

“I think that depends on you, Sirius.”

“Me?”

“Lily’s magic can help protect him, but only, I believe, if he’s with a member of his family. You are his godfather?” 

“You want me to take care of him?” 

“Unless you have any objections. I believe Lily had a sister…”

“No, no, I’ll take care of him. I want to.” There was a note of tenderness, of love in Sirius’ voice. It made Remus tense. “So Voldemort isn’t gone?”

“For the time being, maybe we are safe. But I want Harry in the safest hands possible.” 

“OK. OK.”

“He can live normally so long as he lives with you - there’s no need to keep him locked up - but you must live in your family home.”

Remus half-turned, expecting at least some sort of protest, but Sirius just nodded. “OK.” 

Remus had never once visited Grimmauld Place. He’d barely visited London, other than to Diagon Alley and once or twice on ill-thought out trips with his friends. He’d certainly never been as far north as Islington before, but as they apparated in front of the grand old house, he didn’t care. He followed Sirius into the dark, damp hallway. 

“Where’s your mum?”

“Dead. She died just after Regulus.”

Remus didn’t say a word. He thought about his dad, locked up with his books in their little house in Pembrokeshire, and his mum’s gravestone in the garden, and he remembered how forced Sirius’ nonchalant attitude had been when his father had died. 

He didn’t follow Sirius up the stairs. Harry was crying again, and Remus wasn’t interested in helping. He walked towards the big, imposing door at the end of the corridor, glancing at the unsettling portraits who watched him silently. He found a dark dining room, but he didn’t light any candles. He sat at the head of the table and lit a cigarette, and as his eyes adjusted to the light watched the smoke curl in the air. 

Maybe an hour later - maybe more, maybe less - Sirius found him. He pulled open the door saying, “Remus, are you in here?”, but fell quiet when he saw him. Remus put out his third cigarette on the kitchen table. 

“Is Harry asleep?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is. I had to make a nappy for him out of an old T-Shirt and stuff.” 

Remus nodded and thumbed over the burn marks he’d left on the table. Sirius sat down. 

“Remus - Moony - please listen to me. I’m sorry.” 

Remus didn’t to look up. 

“It’s my fault, I know it is, I know. I should have trusted you. If I had - please, baby. Please. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Sirius scrubbed a hand over his face and through his hair. He was tired, haggard. It had been a long, long bloody day. “Stay with me, then. Don’t make me raise Harry alone. Please, Moony.”

Remus closed his eyes and breathed and nodded. 

“Thank you. Thank you.” Remus didn’t move his hand away when Sirius reached across to hold it briefly. “I’m going to bed. You can take whatever room you want, but don’t disturb the portraits. And watch out for the house elf.” 

Remus sat at the kitchen table until the early morning light peeked in through the heavy London clouds outside the window. He stood up and stretched, ready to roam the house and find a room in which to lock himself away from Sirius and the baby.

But, opening a random door, he found accidentally found them. They were both fast asleep, Harry asleep on Sirius’ chest and one hand holding him in place. They looked something like a family. Remus closed the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Once upon a time, Remus and Sirius had been lovers.

Or maybe they’d only been fucking. It had never really been made clear to Remus. It was certainly furtive, secret: it started with drunken teenage kisses on the roof of the school, regardless of Sirius’ string of inappropriate girlfriends. It became something more when they moved in together after school. It had taken all of a month of post-school summer for Lily and James to give in and move in together. The war made everyone a little bit desperate and crazy; they were determined not to waste a second of time before it was snatched away from them. 

The night James left was the first time they had fallen into bed together. It was maybe the first time they had ever really been alone in their lives. But the thing between them remained unspoken. It didn’t matter that they almost never slept alone. They never talked about what their thing was between each other, let alone discuss it with anyone else. Remus couldn’t imagine that the lovely, good-hearted and open-minded Lily and James would have minded, not after their attitudes towards his lycanthropy. Vaguely, he wondered what they would have thought about a pair of homosexuals raising their son.

The thing between Remus and Sirius had disintegrated as the war deteriorated. Both were in more danger, coming home with bloodier injuries, friends and colleagues dying all around them. They were still teenagers, and they were silent in their terror. While Lily and James threw themselves into each other and their hasty marriage, Peter cowered in his parents’ house, Marlene became single-minded and obsessed with the war, and Remus and Sirius became adversarial. They lashed out at each other, cruel and frightened. Eighteen months after they had moved in with each other, a month after they had stopped speaking, Remus packed up his things and left. 

He had been instructed by Dumbledore, in secret, to infiltrate the packs of werewolves that roamed the mountains and to try and persuade them and anyone else he could manage round to their side. He returned to his old friends only three times after that: once when Harry was born, once when James had begged him to spend Christmas with them, and once more, days before Lily and James went into hiding. As he watched them play with Harry, he thought about how young and scared they were. When he left, James had hugged him tight and promised that when it was all over, everything would go back to normal. He left the Potters for the last time wondering what the hell ‘normal’ would look like anyway. 

He and Sirius still didn’t know how to talk to one another. They were skirting around one another, a little bit awkward but mostly sad. Remus found Harry too painful with his mop of dark hair and wide smile and big green eyes, and mostly sat in the kitchen smoking. Sometimes he prepared food in the early evening, and watched Sirius feed Harry. Occasionally he watched Harry while Sirius went shopping - mostly for baby supplies, Remus imagined. Once he half-heartedly tried to decorate a smaller, empty room as a surprise nursery for Harry. 

Sirius caught him in the act, and Remus swiftly lost interest. The small smile on Sirius’ face unsettled him, and he locked himself in his room with nothing in Harry’s nursery other than a cot and a half-painted wall. 

Remus’ room became his safe-space. He began to find some small comforts in his interests from before the war. He had chosen a room at the very top of the house, far away from Sirius, where the sun shone through the window onto his face as he curled up into an ancient armchair to read. He developed a habit of experimenting with different teas - mint with honey was his favourite - and letting Harry sit on the kitchen table and help with the process with his giggling and chubby fingers. 

He had only just settled down into his chair, with a steaming cup of tea and an old Penguin copy of Byron’s poetry, when there was a soft knock on the door. He twisted slightly in his chair. 

“Come in?”

Harry was led by his hand into the room. “Harry wanted to say hello to Moony.” 

Remus thought about the hastily scribbled letter he’d received from Lily when Harry had taken his first steps. He reached out and let the little boy toddle towards him. Sirius sat on the edge of Remus’ neatly made bed while Harry climbed up onto Remus’ lap, making a grab for the hair curling over his ears and settling for resting his head against Remus’ shoulder.

“Love what you’ve done with the place.”

Remus couldn’t tell if he was joking. It was airier, for sure, as Remus had kept the windows open for a week despite the winter closing in quickly. He’d rearranged the room and piled some books on the bedside table but fundamentally, it was still an archaic, musty room in Grimmauld Place. 

“Uh… Thanks.” 

Sirius leaned back in his forearms with an air of the arrogant twat Remus had been so in love with not so long ago. “So.”

Harry’s little hands were curled up in Remus’. “So.”

“We haven’t - we haven’t spoken.”

“What is there to say?”

“I don’t know. I’m sorry?”

“You don’t really want to talk about it.”

“I do. I do.” Sirius looked considerably less comfortable as he sat back up. “I want to clear the air, please. For Harry.”

For your own damn conscience, Remus thought. “OK. What the hell happened?” 

“I - I told you. I thought I was too obvious, so I persuaded them to change the secret-keeper to -“

“Not that. I mean between us. What happened?”

“Remus, I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that.”

“It was you as well. You pulled away too.”

“You stopped trusting me.”

“I stopped trusting everyone, Moony -“

“Don’t call me that.”

“I was so afraid - I was so scared after that fucking prophecy -“

“But you trusted Peter.”

“Not really, I didn’t think I had a choice.”

“Tell me why you stopped trusting me, Sirius. Tell me.”

“Because - because -“ Sirius let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his face. “Moony, please, I’m sorry. But you’re a bloody werewolf. And I knew who you were running about with, even if you thought I didn’t.”

Something snapped in Remus - hearing out loud what he’d known all along. “And it didn’t occur to you that Dumbledore had asked me to?”

“Remus, I was so worried about James, I was worried sick -“

“Bloody fucking James.” 

Harry burst into tears.

Remus looked down, surprised to find that he was still holding Harry. He stood up and passed him to Sirius. “You always loved him more than you loved me.”

And just as easily as he’d left the first time, Remus walked out again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it was so angsty! I promise it will have a happy-ish ending. My tumblr is welshmoony - i'd love to know what you guys thought!


	3. Chapter 3

Lyall Lupin lived in a tumbledown cottage in the Preseli mountains on the Welsh coast, tucked far away from curious visitors, muggle or otherwise. He and his wife had moved from their frankly lovely house on the outskirts of Cardiff when their son was only small. It was for his own safety - they could both agree on that much.

The mountains offered him some safety from the rest of the judgemental wizarding world and a space to roam when he grew too big for Lyall to control. Perhaps some farmers lost a sheep or two, but Lyall felt this was a small price to pay.

In his old-er age, Lyall sat around his house left alone with his thoughts, grieving the loss of his wife and worrying about his son. Remus didn’t visit nearly as often as he should, and when he did he didn’t talk as much as he should. He had always been a quiet, self-contained boy, but Lyall knew he was fighting in the war, and wished to God that he wasn’t. He was too young and headstrong, and Lyall was sure his silly Gryffindor friends weren’t any help. It had been a month since the war ended, and although he couldn’t find evidence of Remus’ death in any copy of the Daily Prophet, Lyall was worried sick.

He was sat reading in his armchair when there was a knock at the door. Lyall’s work on spirits and apparitions had become rather less practical with his move to Pembrokeshire, although he was kept company by a considerable number of pets: two kneazles, an assortment of pygmy puffs, and a murtlap which lived in the pond at the bottom of his garden, all named in honour of Welsh Gods. A pencil was balanced between his teeth as he carefully read a heavy academic text. He almost didn’t notice his visitor walking up the garden path.

Remus was several inches taller than his father, and had to stoop to accept the hug.

“ _What happened? Where have you been? The war’s been over a month. Where’s James’ son? Where’s Harry Potter?”_ This was all said in Welsh, and followed Remus as he sloped past his father and into the kitchen. He made a cup of tea wordlessly and sat at the kitchen table with it. Lyall brought him a sandwich and tried again.

“ _Son, what happened?_ ”

Remus shook his head and picked at the crust of his sandwich.

Remus could talk about Lyall’s research. That had always been the case. Remus was a bookish boy and a bookish teenager, and liked to keep up with whatever Lyall was working on. In the weeks and months Remus spent in his family home, every night he cooked his father dinner and as they ate they talked. The days were passed in silence - Remus walked or read or edited his father’s writings. Sometimes he disappeared for weeks without a word as to where he was going. But whenever they sat down over spaghetti bolognese or fish pie, they could gently debate and discuss whatever the hell the latest writing on poltergeists was.

This went on for years. The stretches of time Remus was gone grew, and Lyall tried to believe that he would always come home safely - but without knowing his son was sound asleep in the room next door to his, Lyall could never speak easy.

Then, his nightmare came to life. In the early hours of a spring morning, there was a thump at Lyall’s door. It wouldn’t have been loud enough to wake him, but he was awake anyway, trying to fall back to sleep after having to get up to go to the loo. Wand drawn, he crept downstairs and pulled open the door to find his son slumped over on the doorstep.

Remus was injured, badly. Lyall was adept at healing from years of keeping his son away from St Mungo’s, but he wasn’t sure this was something he could fix. Remus was bruised and bleeding from a dozen long cuts, but also feverish and delirious. While Lyall stopped the bleeding, which after years of lack of practice took all the magic he could summon, Remus tossed and turned in his bed. His skin was flushed and hot to touch, and he murmured nonsense into his pillow. In the middle of the night, he woke Lyall up from where he’d fallen asleep in his chair with screams of pain. His scars were bleeding profusely again.

“ _We’re taking you to hospital, we’re going to get you somewhere safe, it’s OK, it’s OK…”_

 _“Sirius,_ ” Remus hissed, his back arching as he cried out. “Please… Please… I need Sirius.”

Lyall nodded, casting all the healing charms he could think of and wondering how the hell he was going to get Remus to St Mungo’s. “ _OK, Remus, OK… I’ll find him_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed :) sorry it's a short chapter - I'll make it up with a happy ending, I promise! Comments are lovely to receive and, as always, my tumblr is welshmoony.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so we're all clear - fuck JKR, she's a racist transphobic **** and also the worst. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this (longer) chapter. The next one should be the last - in this part of the series anyway ;)

The hospital ceiling was white and bright. It was all Remus could fully process as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Once, he managed to groan, and a worried but familiar young man came into view before Remus slipped away again. 

It was a gentle snoring that finally brought him back to full consciousness. It was what he became aware of, a comforting presence beside his bed, before he realised that his throat felt as if it was stuffed with sandpaper and that every inch of his body ached. He groaned. From the corner of his eye, he could see the person startle, and a hand came to hold his.

“Remus? Are you awake?”

Through dry lips and a parched throat, Remus murmured, “Sirius?” He closed his eyes again. “Water…”

A cup was pressed to his lips and, oh so gently, Sirius lifted his head so that he could drink. He was relieved when he could lie back down again.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was a little bit clearer. Sirius’ hand was still on his. “What happened?”

“You tell me, Remus. What the hell happened?” But Sirius’ voice was more gentle and more soothing than Remus had ever heard it before. Remus wished someone would dim the lights as he squeezed his eyes shut against his aching head.

“Don’t remember… Much.” He suspected, if he really put his mind to it, he could make out more than flashes of pain and shouting.

“OK. Don’t worry. Rest, Remus, please.” There was a pause, and Remus was thinking about how soft and warm his bed really was as he drifted back to sleep when Sirius spoke again. “Your dad found me. He said you asked for me.” Remus didn’t respond. Sirius squeezed his hand. “I’ll let you sleep.”

Over the following days, Remus stayed awake for longer and longer stretches of time. When his father was there, he read to him. Sometimes he was alone. Once, he woke up to the babbling of a small child.

“Shh, Harry, Moony’s asleep.”

“Sleep?”

“Yeah, baby, he’s resting.”

Remus opened his eyes and, for the first time in years, was met with Harry Potter’s green eyes blinking back at him from behind round glasses. He smiled, and croaked, “Hello, Harry.”

Harry’s face split into a grin. He was perched on Sirius’ lap, but peering forward at Remus. “Sleep?” he said.

“Awake, now. Tired.” Glancing up at Sirius, looking healthier than Remus had seen him since school and holding Harry so tenderly, caused a physical pain in Remus’ chest.

“How are you feeling?” Sirius asked. Remus kept his gaze fixed on Harry.

“Better. Better.”

“Do you need me to call a healer?”

Remus shook his head, and raised his hand to chuck under Harry’s chin and to let him play with his fingers. “Where’s my dad?”

“Grimmauld Place. Resting. We’ve been… We’ve been taking it in turns to wait with you. You really scared us there, Moony.”

Remus shut his eyes against the wave of emotion hearing his old, affectionate nickname. “I’m sorry.”

“What happened to Uncle Moony?”

“I - sorry,” Sirius started to explain. “I’ve told him about you.”

“Some bad men tried to hurt me. But I stopped them.”

Harry gasped, clapping his hands over his mouth, looking delighted. “Did you fight them?”

“Yeah, of course.” Remus started to smile again.

“Did you win?”

“Always. Nobody ever beats Moony in a duel.”

Harry looked up at Sirius for confirmation, who nodded enthusiastically. “ _Wow_ ,” Harry murmured. Remus laughed.

“Do you know who attacked you, Remus?”

Remus shook his head. “I couldn’t identify them if you asked me to.”

“Do you know -“

“Anti-werewolf group, I suspect.”

“Death eaters?”

Remus shrugged. “Who knows. Could have been anyone.”

Sirius sagged against his chair. “I’ll contact the aurors this evening. They were here when you were first brought in, but we didn’t know anything…”

“What did you tell them?” Remus asked sharply, but Sirius only shook his head.

“Nothing, nothing,”

“You’re not talking to them again.”

“Remus - “

“What they did was barely illegal. I don’t need the aurors poking around in my business and getting me into any trouble.”

“ _Remus_ -“

“I said no, Sirius.”

“Tell me a story,” Harry burst out, bored. “Can Uncle Moony tell me a story?”

Remus took a deep breath. “Why doesn’t your Uncle Padfoot tell us both a story, hey, Harry? I haven’t heard any in so long.”

Harry thought about it for a moment, then nodded. Before long, he was curled up in bed beside Remus, both of them fast asleep after dozing off to Sirius’ stories of three powerful wizard-princes.

Sirius watched them fondly and, despite everything that was unsaid and unresolved, he felt content for the first time in a long time.

It took almost two weeks for Remus to be discharged, and even then it was only under strict instructions of rest and gentle exercise and regular hospital visits. He and Lyall took a muggle cab to Islington, sitting in comfortable science Remus relished so much. It was broken as soon as Lyall gingerly helped his limping son over the threshold of Grimmauld Place.

“Moonyyyyyy!”

They followed Harry’s cry and the sound of dreadful wizard rock to the kitchen, where Sirius and Harry had put up a homemade banner which changed colours dizzyingly and laden the table with party food. Sirius blew a party blower, which made a loud sound and blew sparkles across the kitchen, and Harry laughed from where he was sat on the table amongst all the food and clapped his hands delightedly.

“Moony!”

“Welcome back, Remus.”

“Really, Sirius,” Lyall said disapprovingly, although he was smiling, “Remus needs rest, not excitement.”

“I’m OK, Dad,” Remus said, sitting down. “What have you got for me?” he asked Harry.

“ _Loads_. Cake, and biscuits, and lemonade, and sausage rolls and cupcakes and crisps and loads of other stuff. We spent _two days_ cooking.”

“Is that so?” He peered over Harry’s head at Sirius and smiled. Sirius returned his smile. “Thank you so much, I’m so hungry.”

He let Harry choose his treats, and very carefully add milk to his cup of tea, then sat back and listened while Harry told him in great detail about the pretend Quidditch match he and Sirius had played, then insisted that Remus read to him from four different picture books. When Harry suggested that Remus play a game of Quidditch with him, Lyall stepped in, saying that surely it was time for Harry’s nap. Harry squirmed and complained, and only acquiesced when it was agreed that Lyall would read him another two stories, and tell him the Welsh fairytale about the kidnapped princess and the giant brother, and that Remus would play with him before supper.

Sirius blew him a kiss as Lyall carried up to bed, and the imprint of his lips really flew across the room and smacked Harry on the cheek. Harry waved his pudgy hand and rested his cheek on Lyall’s shoulder, already sleepy.

“Nifty trick,” Remus said. “Where’d you learn to do that one?”

“ _Nifty trick,”_ Sirius imitated. “Your accent goes all Welsh when you spend any time at home.”

Remus snorted and grinned. When he looked across the table, Sirius looked away almost shyly. “Cigarette?”

“I quit.”

“Really?”

“Those things will kill you, you know.”

“Yeah, but that was true when we were seventeen as much as it is now.”

Sirius was fiddling with the ends of his glossy hair. “Didn’t have Harry when we were seventeen. He doesn’t need to lose someone else.”

“Was that aimed at me?”

“No… No.”

Remus nodded and reached for another cupcake.

“Where have you been though?”

He wondered when the hell Sirius learned to cook. “I’m sorry I left.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. I thought about you… I thought about you and Harry every day.”

“Where were you?”

“With my dad.”

Sirius shook his head. “Your dad said you were hardly ever with him. What have you been doing?”

Remus closed his eyes and sighed. “I was looking for Peter.”

“For Peter?”

“It was… Stupid.” He half-laughed. “I wanted to be useful. I can’t do anything else to help, and I felt terrible. If I got rid of him…”

“We need you alive, Remus,” Sirius said softly. “We all do.”

Remus didn’t open his eyes. “It’s weird, you calling me Remus.”

“Moony.” Remus could hear the smile in his voice, and smiled as well.

“Padfoot.” Sirius reached across the table to touch Remus’ forearm.

“We’re going to be OK, you know. It’s all going to be OK.”

Remus took Sirius’ hand in his and squeezed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are lovely, and as always, you can follow me on tumblr over at welshmoony !


	5. Chapter 5

Sirius woke up to the early morning sunlight streaming in through the crack in the heavy curtains. It lit up the room and the streak of light fell right across Remus’ sleeping face. Sirius watched his naked chest rise and fall slowly and bit his lip.

Lyall had moved out of Grimmauld Place five or six weeks earlier, worried about the wellbeing of his pets and reassured by Sirius’ promises to take care of Remus. Remus going with him hadn’t been discussed. 

His recovery had been gradual, but sure. He spent a lot of time reading, in bed or on the sofa, and tried to do household chores before Sirius caught him and sent him to sit down. He’d introduced Harry to the wonders of Lego, and the two of them spent hours building ships of both the space and pirate variety, until the living room became a mini fantasyland. Sirius had supplied them with tea and biscuits and with bedtime stories about the space pirates when it was called for, but didn’t join in. The idea of Remus and Harry building a relationship made his chest warm. 

And in the evenings, after Harry had been put to bed, Remus and Sirius ate together in the kitchen. Remus was as quiet as he ever was, and let Sirius talk right through the meal with a note of Moony-serenity that Sirius had missed so much. Slowly, provided Peter wasn’t mentioned, Remus let him talk about Hogwarts and about Lily and James without leaving the room abruptly. 

The nights became longer and the days warmer and Harry’s birthday drew nearer. Harry threw a tantrum when he was made to go to bed while the sun was still up, until Sirius cast charms to keep out the light and Remus told him stories about places he’d visited where the sun never set. 

Remus and Sirius ate dinner in the narrow back garden, drinking wine and enjoying the sun set over the tall London rooftops. 

“I wish you’d let me cook once in a while,” Remus said, wiping his lips delicately on a napkin. 

“Not bloody likely,” Sirius replied.

“I’m hardly bedridden, Sirius. I think I can manage to fry a couple of fish.”

“That’s not what I meant. You’re a horrible cook.”

Remus snorted. 

“You nearly killed me every time you tried.” 

“That pasta bake was the first time you ordered Muggle takeaway.”

Sirius’ face split into a grin. “That was brilliant. You’re allowed to order me takeaway, if you really like.”

Remus fished a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket, ignoring Sirius’ disapproving look. “When did you learn to cook, anyway?”

“Dunno. Practice. Lots of long evenings after I put Harry to bed.”

Remus paused, and Sirius wished he hadn’t mentioned the years he and Harry had spent alone. 

“It’s so weird how grown-up we are,” he said, quickly changing the subject. “So weird. Imagine where we’d be if it wasn’t for the war.”

“Probably still taking care of Harry.” 

“Yeah, Lily and James never could keep it in their pants.”

Remus took a long drag of his cigarette. “I am sorry I left, you know. I’m so sorry.”

Sirius nodded. “I know.”

“I’m not going to leave again.” Remus wasn’t looking at him. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then, as Sirius set the dishes in the sink and cast a cleaning charm, Remus interrupted him by kissing him gently. It was just for a few moments, Remus’ hands cupping his face lightly, before he pulled away. 

It had been so long since Sirius had been kissed, since Remus had held him with such tender affection, that it took Sirius’ breath away. It was how Remus had kissed him that very first time, all those years ago. Sirius had gone looking for Remus in the library, planning to annoy him out of studying, and hidden between the stacks of books Remus had kissed him without any warning. They had only been 13, and Remus had run away immediately. But he wasn’t running away now. 

“You don’t have to forgive me now, or ever,” Remus whispered. “Just know - if you do -“

Sirius interrupted him by kissing him again. With one hand on his waist and one resting on his neck, his head tilting up to meet Remus, for a moment it was like nothing had ever changed. “I love you,” he murmured against Remus’ lips. He didn’t want to pull away and see Remus’ expression. “I think I always have. I think I always will.”

“Shit, Sirius,” Remus said, then between kisses he sighed, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

And there hadn’t been much talking after that. They had fallen into bed together as if years hadn’t passed, as if they were still 18 and tragedy was still very much in their future. They hadn’t ruined it by talking, and Sirius didn’t want to ruin the early morning peace either.

He kissed Remus’ bare shoulder anyway. 

Remus groaned, long and loud. Without opening his eyes, he said, “Why the fuck am I awake right now?”

Sirius smiled, snaking one arm across Remus’ stomach. “You’re on baby time now. You need to get dressed before Harry comes.”

“What on earth do you want?”

“Harry might not care why his uncles are naked in bed right now, but I don’t want him to suddenly remember this in ten years’ time.”

Remus paused, and Sirius thought he might have fallen back to sleep. “No, I mean, what on earth do you want?”

Sirius laughed, and his hand slipped a little lower. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Remus turned his head to smile at him, finally blinking open his eyes. “Good morning.”

“Morning. You’re not going to try and run away from me?”

Remus kissed Sirius’ wrist, which was lying next to him on the pillow. “What time is it?”

“Quarter to seven,” Sirius said, glancing at the clock sitting on the bedside table behind Remus. 

“Mm.” He closed his eyes. “Too early to run away.” 

Sirius slapped his stomach lightly.

“Kinky.”

“Shut up,” Sirius smiled, curling himself around Remus, his head resting on his chest. “Get dressed.”

“You have to let go of me first.”

Slowly, with many more distractions, they both managed to pull on one T-Shirt, a pair of underwear, and a pair of sweatpants between them. Still in various states of disarray, they fell back into bed together, and it was cuddling and talking softly that Harry found them at half past seven in the morning. 

“Pads?” he said, hesitating in the door. “Why’s Moony here?”

“Come here, baby,” Sirius said, helping Harry climb up onto the bed. 

“Did you have a nightmare?” Harry asked sympathetically, slipping between the two of them beneath the covers.

“No,” Remus conceded. “I had lots of good dreams, and I came to tell Padfoot about them.”

“What were the dreams?” 

“They were about the space prince pirates,” Sirius jumped in. “Sirius was still trapped on the Death Star, and Remus and James had to rescue him…”

And Remus and Harry listened to Sirius’ stories until all three of them had fallen asleep again.

And there was still so much hurt, and so much grief, but as they all dozed peacefully in bed together, it started to look as if maybe it could all come out OK.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Et voila! Finished! I hope you all enjoyed. I think I'd like to continue this as a series of stories, so please let me know if you'd be interested in that. Also, I'm not sure which fic to work on next - would you guys prefer a university AU, a band AU, or a possibly-Drarry epilogue rewrite? Let me know in the comments or (for the last time haha), come tell me over at welshmoony!


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